The PoYB Monthly Playlist: October 2024

Halloween music playlists suck, because they are so fucking forced. What, you're telling me that Rick James' "Super Freak" is a fucking Halloween song? Seems like a stretch to me, but who the fuck am I to tell you otherwise? Especially if it saves me from having to hear Bobby "Boris" Pickett or Ray Parker Jr. for the billionth fucking time. So I'm not doing a Halloween playlist this month.

The thought did cross my mind, though. This is Pam's favorite holiday, and I make these playlists for Pam first (and the general PoYB audience second), so it kind of made sense? But no, no, I'm not giving into those impulses. I don't want to annoy you with "Halloween music" that doesn't have any tangential connection to the holiday of Halloween.

I can give you twelve good songs, though. And since today really is Halloween, I'm gonna add a parenthetical at the end of every blurb explaining why I think that particular song is SPOOKY. Enjoy your SPOOKY playlist.

October 2024

Listen to the whole thing on YouTube here. If you have Apple Music, maybe Pam will share it with you.

1. "Eating the Egg Whole" by Wild Pink — I am officially done including National and War on Drugs songs on this playlist, but hey, why not pick a song from a new album that is totally within the wheelhouse of those two bands? Wild Pink are awesome. (SPOOKY: that a song with the opening lyrics "so the Bullets became the Wizards" can still be so affecting.)
 

2. "Reappearing Rat" by Sunset Rubdown — Two Sunset Rubdowns in one day, this one to just underline a point that was underserved in the last post—Always Happy to Explode is a great fucking album! Better than any reunion album is expected to be. I'm not gonna drag Pam to concerts like the Sunset Rubdown one, but I am going to continue to play their music for her, and I think she's gonna like this one. (SPOOKY: easy, rats are fucking spooky as shit, especially when they show up unannounced.)

 

3. "Running Around" by Childish Gambino ft. Fousheé — It's been a few weeks, and still no release date announcement of the alleged Bando Stone and the New World movie. Even if this joke never has a true punchline, it'll have been worth it, if only for this extremely corny song and extremely catchy song, one that begs the question: can a song be an outlier if an artist traffics in nothing but outliers? (SPOOKY: I still hate the "old fishes" line dropped by Fousheé, but I'll admit it's been in my head for three weeks now, and so I'm starting to question whether the hate is just embarrassment for loving something so dumb.)

 

4. "Eviction Party" by Bad Moves — I feel like there's been a shift in focus on my wife's part to the eternal musical question of "is this cool?" I like the question. I don't know if I'm necessarily at the point where I'm seeking out music because it's cool, but I think it's a noble pursuit, and I also think Pam is cool as shit, so it makes sense that she'd be listening to cool music. Bad Moves are cool. (SPOOKY: that "eviction" is even a thing—fuck these ghoulish landlords.)

 

5. "How Long the Devil's Been Gone II" by Kid Chameleon — The discussion of "could this sound better with more resources" is a great one, and I'm glad Nate brought it to the table, while at the same time exposing me to this fantastic album. Could How Long the Devil's Been Gone feel bolder with bigger sounds made by more people? Sure. Should it? I don't know. I'm on the fence. It sounds plenty epic as it stands here and now, supposedly made by one dude in his bedroom. I played it on the way to Pam's Lasek surgery—big music for big changes—and it felt right. I don't need another version of this. (SPOOKY: the devil is very spooky!!!!!!!!)

 

6. "Icecream" by Lou Bega — Creating "Mambo No. 5 (A Little Bit Of...)" basically makes Lou Bega a terrorist. But—and I cannot stress how insane it is that there is a "but" here—the song "Icecream" makes the terrible reign of that terrible song all worth it. I love this song, and I am not afraid to say it. Pam, I don't know if you read these, and I don't know if you listen to these playlists, but if you only have time for one single song, make it "Icecream" by Lou Bega!!!!!!!!!! (SPOOKY: Lou Bega made a good song.)

 

7. "Journey to the Center of Your Heart" by Donna Summer — Oh man, there is a lot to like on Bad Girls. But I like this one for how it basically predicts '80s rock in 1979 by sounding like a robot in the intro, and then cracking open into the song proper that features even more robotic synths but higher-pitched this time... and but also sounding like a classic disco song? With saxophone? The fact that you cannot describe the song is what makes it a good song. Also, I am predicting a kitchen dance party to this one soon. (SPOOKY: how good this song would've been at one of my and Pam's Halloween parties back in the day... spooky how time flies...)

 

8. "Drip" by Cardi B ft. Migos — I'm not seriously working my way through that RS Best Rap Albums list, but I planned on looking back on it every once in a while to see if there are any other hip-hop albums I'd like to try out. This is how I finally ended up with Invasion of Privacy, after avoiding it for six and a half years. Not bad! I sincerely despise "I Like It," and "Bodak Yellow" is overrated, but there are some great deep cuts here. Something like "Drip" has a nice beat, and Cardi B is always fun to listen to, with her ridiculous regional accent. Here is my one true hip hop album pick for this month's playlist (in honor of barn cat Cardi B). (SPOOKY: Migos is on that TERRIBLE song on the new Addams Family movies, and it's spooky how often that piece of shit gets played in my household.)

 

9. "Communist Eyes" by Germs — It's election season, in case you didn't notice after being bombarded with texts and calls and commercials and a general existential dread that America is going to kill democracy like Solomon's baby. I don't plan on writing too much (more) on the subject on this blog. Maybe that changes. I purposefully set the prompts next week to be non-political. Maybe the write-ups will be political anyway. I don't know. I was thinking about this, listening to some good ol' both-sides-ism by Germs (or the Germs, even they can't seem to decide). Something to think about, some punk music to distract. (SPOOKY: how even the polls are right now.)

 

10. "Nobody but Me" by the Drifters — Picture me, in the dining room, thinking out loud, as Pam patiently listens to me wonder about the path of this song. This is the Drifters, I say. Ben E. King's group before he went solo. He's the "Stand by Me" guy. I downloaded an album by the Drifters, I say. The chorus on this one song sounds familiar. It's like that song by the Human Beinz. You know, the one that was on The Office. Then I later found it on Nuggets too. I say, don't they sound alike? The choruses? But then I went on Wikipedia, and it says that the Human Beinz did it in 1968, and it's a cover of a 1962 song from the Isley Brothers, all of them called "Nobody but Me," but no mention of the Drifters anywhere on the song's Wikipedia page. Isn't that weird? I ask it again. Isn't that weird? (SPOOKY: that Pam chose to stay married to me.)

 

11. "Wristwatch" by MJ Lenderman — I thought long and hard about ignoring MJ Lenderman on this playlist, to really underline the point I was trying to make (somewhat in jest) in my Manning Fireworks review. But "Wristwatch" is, for better or worse, undeniably perfect. (SPOOKY: the idea that our society just totally accepts that wristwatches have cell phones in 'em now... we're all fucked!!!)

 

12.  "Action & Action" by the Get Up Kids — This really should have been mentioned on the blog before this. Pam saw the Get Up Kids show where they played Something to Write Home About in full. She listened to this stuff in high school, and I was a late bloomer, so I drew the short straw. Maybe hearing this song at the end of the playlist will inspire her to write a blog post about her experience, reliving a high school band as an adult. (SPOOKY: we're old, man.)


I hope the rest of your Halloween is sufficiently SPOOKY!

Yearlong Song Challenge, Day 153: Nate

Prompt: "A spooky song"

Selected by Nate

"ROCKMAN"

Mk.gee

single, 2024

Nothing spooky about this song as text, unless one's definition of "spooky" is "a song that sounds a little bit like the police filtered through the prism of Mac Demarco" which, come to think of it, does sound like a nightmare of sorts. That's more or less the only word on the Mk.gee project. It stands as evidence of an accelerated pop-cultural timeline; rather than things taking 20 years to come back around into vogue, things from only ten years ago can bubble up from the swamp like a killer in a slasher movie long thought dead but brought back again for reasons opaque, grotesque, and fiscal.

But none of that is spooky. What makes it spooky (apologies but there is no way around it) is that it sounds like a song that my dead cousin would have eventually made had he not passed away in 2018. I've thought long and hard about whether or not I want to say anything more about that in this forum. I think I will eventually but I don't want to right now. Maybe I am lazy, maybe I am not ready, maybe one is protecting me from the other. Hard to know. Here's something you can read about it if you're so inclined, and here is something else you can read about it if you're so inclined. You're probably better off just listening to "ROCKMAN."

Yearlong Song Challenge, Day 153: Zach

Prompt: "A spooky song"

Selected by Zach

"Tick of the Clock"

Chromatics

Night Drive, 2007

I'm trying to make a point here and I can't do it. I've spent way too much time now trying to write something about religious prohibitions, and I'm ready to just throw in the towel. Something something something there's something deeper behind them. But there's no way I'm going to be able to communicate what I'm really trying to say in a blog post. So let's try it this way:

They say that spilling seed is a terrible sin. But I think I know why. It's not as simple as you think, like God only wants purity in your life and doesn't tolerate urges. The blemish is not necessarily in the act of spilling seed itself. It's in the guilt and shame of what you feel afterwards. No human on this earth should make you feel like you're worthless. If they are, they don't deserve to be a holy representative of God or of any religion. And there are times when you fall and get back up. That's where the concept of repentance comes from. God explicitly describes Himself in the Torah as "a God compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in kindness and faithfulness, extending kindness to the thousandth generation, forgiving iniquity, transgression, and sin—yet not remitting all punishment." 

So you can always be forgiven by God. You need to find out if you can forgive yourself, which is often harder. We don't forgive ourselves for so many things in the world, big or small.

Why is spilling seed prohibited? I see the reason as because it's an act of giving in and giving up.

We all know that p*rn these days is terrible. It messes up your brain. It messes up so many things. It's the reason why things like the No Fap forum have become so popular. A whole generation of mostly men who expect their real-life sexual partners to be like the women they see on Pornhub. It's terrible. And it's so easy. Anyone can pull up Pornhub. 

If you do open up Pornhub, you have given up. Given up on a healthy relationship with a member of the opposite sex. You're logging into a fantasy that will change the wiring of your brain.

That doesn't mean you're a bad person if you masturbate. We all have urges. But the prohibition of masturbation has its reasons.

Now, you'll say that many people don't actually have a partner. What are they supposed to do? Suffer their urges and bear them? I don't know, I have no answers. But an awareness of the depth of this prohibition is important to keep in mind when those urges come.

I feel like forums like No Fap are a natural return to connecting with God without the heaviness that the word "God" brings. And I'm here for it.

Yearlong Song Challenge, Day 153: Sara

Prompt: "A spooky song"

Selected by Sara

"Disturbia"

Rihanna

Good Girl Gone Bad: Reloaded, 2008

Halloween is not for me. I actually really dislike it. I'm not skipping Halloween for Christmas or anything like that, but just skipping Halloween in general. I don't like being scared, I don't like murder, and I don't like costume parties. The decorations are garish. And frankly, it's not even the elite holiday candy. That goes to Easter. The sleeper winner for holiday candy. It makes my transition to fall such a bummer. I do wonder how my feelings will change as E gets older. I assume I'll be more into it, for her. For her memories, to keep up the fun. Ryan and I have a pact to really attempt to not accidentally fall into the pattern of our parents. The general stopping of childhood fun because it's too inconvenient for parents. Well, 90% of being a parent is pretty inconvenient, so I am hoping that we are able to go with the flow and create some fun for this little girl!

Yearlong Song Challenge, Day 153: Allison

Prompt: "A spooky song"

Selected by Allison

"No Vampires Remain in Romania (Dracula Spectacular)"

King Luan

There Are No Gnomes in Sweden, 2019

I've never been a big scary movie person. Gore doesn't bother me, but I don't like to be startled, and I don't like being tense. I'm already tense all the time; what's a movie like Hereditary going to do for me besides compress me into a tiny, dense ball of nerves? No thanks, I'm cool! I don't need scary stories or horror flicks. It's 2024; ghouls and goblins walk amongst us. Don't believe me? Here are just a few of the modern-day horrors that haunt us every day.

• Yoga teachers who point out when you're struggling but offer no constructive feedback
• Loud teens on their phones in the gym locker room
• Back-in angle parking
• People who message you on Teams out of the blue with just "Hey"
• My friend's mom's RFK Jr.-obsessed Facebook posts
• Cybertrucks
• And then there's ...*gestures vaguely all around*

Yearlong Song Challenge, Day 153: Joe

Prompt: "A spooky song"

Selected by Joe

"Silver Moons"

Sunset Rubdown

Dragonslayer, 2009

The man on stage, under the center spotlight, spoke into the microphone, and called us, and I quote, "a bunch of weirdos." Said it more than once, in fact. And I think I agreed with him. It felt right.

If you asked any one of the 100 or so 30- or 40-somethings in the audience at the Sunset Rubdown show, they'd tell you the same story: I thought I was never going to be able to see this band, and now I'm here. This was my story too. I was there. I listened to Sunset Rubdown a fair amount in high school and college. And then they, as a band, more or less faded away, but the music stuck around in my ears. I put a song on an early mix CD for Pam, for example. And now all of a sudden it's fifteen years later, and I'm standing in the basement of a church, listening to Sunset Rubdown perform live.

It had been exactly twelve years and one day since I'd been to the Church, a.k.a. First Unitarian Church (when I saw Titus Andronicus). These were wildly different circumstances. Well, not completely, as Sam was still there (Nate and Pat having long moved out of their Catherine St. home with cornhole set in dirty basement, perfect for too much pregaming). But I was older, less sloppy, less comfortable in my own skin, but more in touch with the music, and more willing to seek out that connection. There were maybe 100 people there. We were all there to see Sunset Rubdown. We were all completely locked in. No ecstatically spilled beer on this occasion.

They were great. Spencer Krug is fucking awesome. Up there, an obvious mild manner transforming into something alien and otherworldly when he cocks his head into the mic and yelps and yawlps all the crazy shit from his best songs. The voice is an acquired taste, certainly, but those familiar with it from various projects over the years find comfort in its complexities. Drummer Jordan Robson-Cramer was a standout too, breathing life into the new songs from the new album, and just generally going insane on everything, which makes him the best kind of drummer. He left the drumset for the final three songs, and managed to translate that untamed energy into guitar-playing as well (leaving the replacement drummer looking unfortunately meek in return). They played a really nice combination of new songs and old. They went hard on Random Spirit Lover, and made "Mending of the Gown" seem incredibly fresh to me, as an encore song. And they took some time to turn the tempo down and volume up and play the spooky "Silver Moons."

"Spooky" because, I dunno, full moons are spooky and imply werewolves, monstrous transformation, that kinda shit (I must have made my YouTube account in 2009, because it's still named silvermoons1, and the profile pic is still a full moon). "Spooky" too, perhaps, because of how much it took me back to a previous life. There are plenty of songs and albums and artists I remember falling in love with as I spent two summers rearranging books in the Connelly Library. It was truly the most mindless work, perfect for listening to music with intent. I was sad during that first summer, 2009. I was sad in a college-specific way, since I had just been given my umpteenth write-up, this one for trespassing into the townhouse area that I had been previously banned from. I was only halfway through my college experience, and already, signs that it might be time to start preparing to leave.

Which is so tough, to love something so much and to have it be implied and then outright stated that you have to leave that thing. There's this idea with nostalgia that you wish you knew that you were living the Good Ol' Days while you were actually living them; no one tells you that it's just as painful in the moment to know very well that you're right smack in the fucking middle of those Good Ol' Days, and know too that your time is nigh there. I knew what I had in college. I knew that I had to let it go, eventually. That still doesn't make it any easier to actually do. But I did it, and I got over it, and I don't miss it all that much these days, and yet I hear "Silver Moons" and the pain comes rushing back.

Every line in this song speaks to this time in my life, like

"Passing the baton from the old mare to the faun

It was out of line but it was fun,
Didn't you love the part right before the dawn?"

and

"I'm off to the ballet,
And to practice all these ancient ways

Tell the new kids where I hid the wine,
Tell their fathers that I'm on my way."

and

"I believe in growing old with grace."

all of it speaking to the idea that I couldn't get out of my mind at the time that I was already outgrowing the clothes that had fit so well so far in my collegiate years. That there was more to life than this, the bullshit disciplinary infractions and the oppressive rules and the seemingly pointless studies and the summers spent moving books from one shelf to another. But escaping all that meant leaving a lot of what I loved in life. Some of those loves came with me, and they evolved with me. Others stayed behind. I tried to love the part right before the dawn, while I could.

We were weirdos because we were there, at that concert on October 24, 2024, but not because of the music or how weird it is (though I guess it is pretty weird). We were weirdos because this is the music we'd held onto for all this time, and we chose, in adulthood, to go back to the Church basement and experience that music in person, live, with the man who created it, and who touched our lives in some way, even if it was done inadvertently in some college library all the way back when. It felt nice to be acknowledged in that way. It felt like Spencer Krug, in that moment, understood us, just like we pretend that we can understand him.

I know there are special feelings when you see one of your favorite bands perform for the first time, and I know that a good show can make you like the music more, and I know it's cool when you see a band and you remember the good times you had with them through their music. This Sunset Rubdown show felt like it went beyond all that. Sure, yes, a lot of it was new music, with new memories attached by design, and that's great. But a lot of it had to do with the fact that this band released three great albums and then disappeared. So the memories from the mid-to-late-'00s that are soundtracked by Sunset Rubdown are by and large preserved in amber, occasionally cracked open in an emergency, but otherwise safely tucked away. Then, you're fifteen years old, and in a room with a bunch of weirdos, and everything comes rushing back, all of it, all at once. It's a cool feeling.

Yearlong Song Challenge, Day 153: Gilson

Prompt: "A spooky song"

Selected by Gilson

"The Day Robert Palins Murdered Me"

performed by Tim Robinson and Rhys Coiro

from I Think You Should Leave, 2019

The guy said he wanted something spooky. 

I'm not going to say that I Think You Should Leave ended my relationship, but it certainly didn't help things. It came out when A and I lived together and when my drinking was getting worse, and instantly became the funniest fucking thing I had ever seen. A did not like it. In fact, I'd say that 90% of the people who I have recommended it to have not liked it. Since I've sobered up, I've been far more cautious on who I show it to, because that 90% number seems about right. 

Top Three ITYSL sketches at this exact moment in time:

Number 3: Hot Dog Car

Number 2: Pay It Forward

Number 1: Baby of the Year

Yearlong Song Challenge, Day 153: Brianna

Prompt: "A spooky song"

Selected by Brianna

"Spooky"

Dusty Springfield

single, 1968

Man, spooky season is the best. Who's with me? Where my ghouls at?

We already covered the candy part (see: Day 152), but what about dressing up? For professional and budgetary reasons, I tend to feel like I'm restricted from really having fun in what I wear on a day-to-day basis. Halloween is an opportunity to really lean into things. I had a student ask me if I was going to dress up at school tomorrow for our costume contest. I told her about my bride of Frankenstein getup and reciprocated the question. She said no way, to which I joked, "What? Too cool to dress up?" "Yup." I felt a familiar sadness at this age old high school dilemma, the fear of getting too much attention. Sometimes these kids find out too late that being cool doesn't compare to what fun feels like. It feels like freedom.

But I suppose fear is a part of the season. Now, I'm not one for haunted corn mazes or anything you gotta walk through (a ride is fine I suppose). Scary movies, though, are an essential. Gimme the ghosties, the paranormal, I want the big thrilling plot twist but, please, hold the over-the-top gore.

A lot of people out there will try to tell you they don't make good scary movies anymore. These people are liars, don't listen to them! There are the classics, sure. But damn, if they haven't put out some of my favorites in the past decade. To prove them wrong, here's some modern horror fun for your viewing pleasure:

The Ritual (2017, Netflix): "A group of college friends reunite for a trip to the forest, but encounter a menacing presence in the woods that's stalking them." Talk about atmosphere! This one will have you shook to the core, and happens to have one of the coolest spooky creatures in recent memory.

When Evil Lurks (2023, Hulu, Spanish audio): "Residents of a small rural town discover that a demon is about to be born among them. They desperately try to escape before evil is born, but it may be too late." An exception to my no-gore rule, but it was so worth it.* There are going to be a couple moments in this when your jaw will be on the ground (warning to my dog owner/parents out there), just pick it up and fasten your seatbelt. It's a wild ride.

Barbarian (2022, Hulu): "In town for a job interview, a young woman arrives at her Airbnb late at night only to find that it has been mistakenly double-booked and a strange man is already staying there. Against her better judgment, she decides to stay the night anyway." Have you ever gone into a movie thinking you knew exactly what was going to happen, but realize you're just a big stinkin' idiot? Yeah. Do yourself a favor and go into this one knowing as little as possible. Special recognition to Justin Long, Babygirl of Horror, who puts on one of the best comedic performances of his life. 

The Menu (2022, Hulu): "A young couple travels to a remote island to eat at an exclusive restaurant where the chef has prepared a lavish meal, with some shocking surprises." Okay, maybe it's the cooking show enthusiast in me, but I fucking loved this movie. It's less of a spookfest, more of a building dread à la mother! with a dash of that borderline comedic Ralph Fiennes delivery. I especially loved the dish presentation shots with the recipe overlay similar to what you'd see in a round of Chopped. Once the story gets going, these shots are everything. 

Evil Dead (2013, Max): "Five friends head to a remote cabin, where the discovery of an ancient book leads them to unwittingly summon up demons living in the nearby woods." A decade later and this is still the scariest movie I've ever seen. It's not even close. When I went to Letterboxd to get the plot summary, I actually had to scroll the page up so that DEMON WOMAN in the FLOOR would stop staring at me!! Thanks, PoYB, now I have to sleep with the lights on.

*And really, by "no gore," I'm thinking more of your tortureporns (Saw, Hostel, and the like) and your cannibals (Bone Tomahawk and Green Inferno, oh how you two have traumatized me!).

Yearlong Song Challenge, Day 153: Maeve

Prompt: "A spooky song"

Selected by Maeve

"Psycho Theme"

composed by Bernard Herrmann

from Psycho, 1960

I am a scaredy cat. I always hated scary things growing up. A haunted house? Sure, I'll get carried out by my best friend's dad for having a full blown meltdown. The haunted mansion in Disney? Yup, that's right I'll hide my eyes behind hands... at age sixteen (pathetic). Scary movies? Absolutely not, even the iconic Boy Meets World Halloween episode was too much for me.

At some point, this all completely shifted for me though. Maybe it's growing up? Maybe it's living in a city that has made me tough and finally Brave Maeve? Now, I not only can watch scary movies, but I love them. I've already done my rewatch of all six Scream movies this season! I also just saw Smile 2 in theaters, which I really enjoyed, terrified me, and also made me realize that possession movies aren't necessarily "my" horror genre. Love creature or supernatural movies. I love a slasher, psychological thriller... pretty much anything that's based in reality. A home invasion plot? Tell me more! This doesn't really explain my love for rewatching Midsommar... or does it? I mean, everything in that movie is truly based in reality, just a fucked up one? I'll give any horror a movie a chance.

So my question for you, in the most Ghostface voice possible... what's your favorite scary movie?

Yearlong Song Challenge, Day 153: Sunny

Prompt: "A spooky song"

Selected by Sunny

"Somebody's Watching Me"

Rockwell ft. Michael Jackson

Somebody's Watching Me, 1984

To avoid being accused of nepotism, Kennedy Gordy, son of Motown founder Barry Gordy, secured his first record deal without his dad's knowledge (still at Motown Records, however). The record label suggested the name Rockwell; he thought that was just swell, and that this new pseudonym "rocked well." 

 

However, despite this valiant attempt of bootstrapping a young pop/R&B career on his talent alone, Rockwell had no problem featuring his childhood friend MJ on the record. In a proper monkey's paw fashion, that would be the last of his singles that made it anywhere. This song was on the music round of trivia the other day, and I had no idea who it was.

Back in 2019, a girl and I broke up not entirely, but in part because of me saying I deliberately avoided any and all MJ investigative content (there was that new HBO doc out at the time), and was purposefully ignorant of any allegations. To this day, I haven't looked into it, and figure it'll be less and less relevant, and stay quiet as the greater culture moves on.

It's Not Too Late: YSC, Day 152: Maeve

Prompt: "A song that has a type or brand of candy in its title"

Selected by Maeve

"My Boy Lollipop"

Spice Girls

from Spice World, 1997

I am not a candy girl. When it come to sweets, I'd much rather veer cookie, cake, pastry, ice cream, etc. I wouldn't say that I subscribe to "gummy ain't yummy," but I never really treat myself to those, and I actively don't like Skittles, Starbursts, Nerds, anything of that variety. But since you'll be reading this on Halloween, here's my official Top Five ranking of Halloween candy (shoutout to Brianna, who did a much better version of this):

1. Reese's
2. Snickers
3. The single Kit Kat that's only sold in Halloween candy bags
4. The tiny Butterfingers that still get stuck to your teeth
5. Milky Way

**Side note, my favorite candy is a Turtle. They're perfect and such a treat.

It's Not Too Late: YSC, Day 151: Maeve

Prompt: "A song about the devil"

Selected by Maeve

"The Devil Went Down to Georgia"

Charlie Daniels Band

Million Mile Reflections, 1979

I did pick this song purely because this is a delayed entry, and I really thought it was missing from the oeuvre. Where do we think it ranks among songs that are covered by one to two grumpy old men on guitar that are hidden in a corner of the bar playing and no one is really paying attention? I feel like Beatles and Johnny Cash covers fall easily into this category, but if I were to have my way, it would just be all Irish folk songs all the time. Those are the only songs I want to hear in these very, very specific scenarios that I've found myself frequently enough.

It's Not Too Late: YSC, Day 152: Bridget

Prompt: "A song that has a type or brand of candy in its title"

Selected by Bridget

"Kit Kat Jam"

Dave Matthews Band

Busted Stuff, 2002

If you know me, you know I'm a candy girl. I am always going to be looking for a way to get my grubby little hands on some candy! Especially working the night shift, I always crave a little 3 AM treat. For this reason, I love the Halloween season! There is always a surplus of candy floating around at work, especially because coworkers bring in leftovers they don't want their kids eating! I usually tend to lean towards the more fruit-forward candy, like Starbursts and Skittles, but there's something about Halloween that always has me craving Kit Kats. I love that they come in the little two packs! They are the perfect mix of chocolate and crunch. I love to eat them like a lil beaver and crunch them down in a few bites. I am fascinated to hear how other people like to enjoy their Kit Kats! I hope everyone is enjoying their sugar intake this time of year like I am!

It's Not Too Late: YSC, Day 151: Bridget

Prompt: "A song about the devil"

Selected by Bridget

"Paint the Town Red"

Doja Cat

Scarlet, 2023

This song has a fun lil TikTok dance that I could never get it together with! And that's ok, because I'm 32 years old and don't need to be learning a stupid dance! But anywho! How's everyone feeling about the spooky season? I know I pretend to like scary movies, but really, I do just like a who-done-it mystery movie! I don't fuck with movies that are religious and about spirits. I guess it's the whole being raised a Catholic thing... Maeve and I just saw Smile 2, and I realized I'm not as brave as I thought. I watched maybe half of the movie with my hands over my eyes. The devil wasn't in the movie, but it is a "spirit" that needs a host, so I should have known better!

It's Not Too Late: YSC, Day 10: Zach

Prompt: "A song with no letters in its title"

Selected by Zach

"6, 8, 12"

Brian McKnight

Back at One, 1999

I will oblige Joe and allow him to link to one of the artists that he didn't link to in my Day 152 post. I feel privileged to be the first person to write about Brian McKnight on this blog. I don't know his music at all except for "Back at One."

There was nothing like the '90s in combining utmost sincerity with tacky emotional grabs. I went down the rabbit hole and watched the music video for "Back at One." Brian McKnight walks through a field of corn, the signal for angels and death (like in Gladiator, or perhaps City of Angels somewhere along the way?). There's a scene of a turbulent plane, air masks fallen from the ceiling. There are shots of young pale-looking children, kind of how the ghosts look in The Sixth Sense. They are freshly dead. Brian McKnight has himself died, apparently. We know this because he's walking through the corn field, something only dead people do. We flip back to the plane scene, where Brian makes a final phone call from the turbulent plane to his partner. The plane crashes. But then angel Brian McKnight appears next to his partner. And she's comforted? Dark.

I, myself, will never die. I will outlive Methuselah because I eat right and exercise and am immortal.

The A.S.S. Creative Writing Lab: Prompt #44

This is a weekly space for creative writing. Please check out the landing page if you're interested in what we've written already, or if you yourself are interested in writing creatively. Feel free to comment below (according to the request feedback level) with any comments or suggestions!

Prompt:

Review of Phish's A Picture of Nectar, Rachel S., Puke on Your Birthday, 2021

Author: Joe

Requested feedback: I can't make you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Give me that sledgehammer. I don't care how thick that fourth wall is, brah. I'm gonna smash through that fucker. Give it to me. Just you watch. Stand back, here it comes.

No, you can't break the fourth wall, Joe. Don't. Not here, in the A.S.S. Creative Writing Lab's 44th blog post. We almost got through an entire year of focused writing. Don't throw it all away now because you're tired and wanna pull out the same tired ol' shtick that you use constantly. Don't do it! It's not worth ruining what we've built here for such an easy out! No! Do not!

Shut the FUCK up, bitch! You better believe I'll take this goddamn sledgehammer and turn around and use it on that fragile skull of yours if you don't back the FUCK off. I'll break this goddamn wall if I want to, and you cannot stop me!

"Dude, what are you writing, your manifesto?" This is my coworker, snarkily commenting from across the divide between our cubicles, after he notices how furiously I am typing away at the 44th entry to the A.S.S. Creative Writing Lab. I don't tell him what I'm doing. The window is minimized before he can get a good look at the opening line of "Give me that sledgehammer." I've been practicing the Windows Key + Down Arrow keyboard combo, hitting it like an old-school cowboy would pull a gun from the holster. A measure of self-protection against a director who is suddenly making the rounds and might turn hostile over how many hours I'm logging on Blogpost. 

My coworker takes the sledgehammer. He is the opposite of my director in that he is not hostile at all and I trust him when it comes to office policy and politics (in that he is as anti-boss as I am), but the fourth wall is broken, and he's part of the blog post now, and so why not give him the sledgehammer. Type the words that make him, in this story, walk across to my cubicle, and swing horizontally, knocking my head clean off my neck, and saving us both from the misery of another six hours of taking calls.

I take a sip of my water and wonder how much longer this blog post has to be. The last paragraph was okay. It was cool going back another step through the curtain, past the wall, explaining that I am typing the words as I'm typing them. A distracting thought here might be how my actual coworker would react if he actually read this blog post in which I describe him committing an act of violence. I let myself stare at the screen for a moment, thinking about this, before continuing to type. I think he would call it "weird." No one needs to know about this.

I sit down at my desk for another long day, and decide that I am going to write my A.S.S. Creative Writing Lab for the week, in between phone calls. I don't feel like it. I rarely feel like it. I sit down and I open up the fresh blog post and find myself typing the words "Give me that sledgehammer." I don't know who said it or why, I just type it. Then, shortly after, I imagine my own head being annihilated by that same sledgehammer. The sledgehammer that doesn't actually exist; the sledgehammer that I pulled out of thin air, with my words, an act that I am now explaining with more words, in a boring attempt at fourth-wall-breaking.

What the hell is this? Why are you writing like this?

Because I don't have anything else to say.

I sit down at my desk and I get distracted by a phone call. I won't tell you what it was about—just because some fictional version of myself took a fictional sledgehammer and fictionally made literal the figurative, literary act of breaking the fourth wall doesn't mean confidentiality laws were smashed with a sledgehammer too—but it was enough that now I have to get back to what I was saying, put myself in the right mindset, and when I get there, I find that there was nothing here to begin with. Just empty words, circular, an attempt at self-consuming art, failure.

So in response, I take a real sledgehammer—right out of the utility closet on the third floor of this decrepit building—and swing it hard, in a downward motion, right into my desktop computer monitor and government-issued laptop. Smash that shit to pieces. The computer that has acted as such a dark shadowy pall over my life, work avoidance and blog addiction alike. I smash it. I destroy it. This is actually what I'm doing. I'm describing it in a non-fiction way. I am telling you my truth. This is an authentic document of real-life events. I am smashing my computer with a sledgehammer. This is against workplace rules.

I take another sip of my water and read the last paragraph. I pull the curtain back over the stage. I wish it were true but it's not. I wish when you broke the fourth wall, that it wasn't just the actors invading the audience, but also that the audience could invade the stage. I wish I really could take a sledgehammer and smash this fucking computer that I'm currently using to type these current words. I really do. I don't want to do work. I want to keep writing this bullshit all day. I hate work. I don't want to do it. You can't make me.

Sixers Sisters — 10/30/24

by Maeve

Good morning, my dear friends. Our beloved Sixers are 1-2 right now (not great, but not terrible). Without the help of Joel and PG, it's hard to get a read on the team. Maxey was triple-teamed during much of the home opener vs. the Bucks (who are 1-3, this was the only game they've won this season). Clearly the first game doesn't dictate how the season is going to go, they're lucky that their opening game was at home and nationally broadcast. That's a sign that they're expected to be great. Granted, it's all an expectations game, but they at least made the playoff the past few years after losing their opening games. 

A few other notable things from the opening include: 

• Yabusele looks great and is clearly becoming my favorite bench player.
• Caleb Martin plays incredible defense and should be starting over KJ (and has since).
• Andre Drummond isn't an Embiid sub, but it's nice to have someone care about rebounds again.
• Kyle Lowry may be old, but is looking spry, and has been very important so far.

The second game of the season, which was up in Toronto... let's just forget that one. I didn't watch, and when I looked at the score, seems like my prior obligations actually were a perfect distraction from that shitshow. When I asked Bridget about it, she said, "I guess they can't win when they miss every shot," which is... how basketball works? They definitely should have beat this awful Toronto team who were beat by 30 points by the Cavs in the home opener. 

The third game of this season kicked off right after the Eagles thrilling win on Sunday. The boys ended up winning in OT due to the heroic antics of our baby boy Tyrese Maxey. He went off for 45 points (which at that point had been the most points scored by a player this season... Paolo on the Magic has since beaten it). It's only been three games, the Pacers are a tough team to beat, our boys are figuring it out and are still missing two of the top three players. We have a long season ahead, and my analysis thus far is: let's have fun and watch them crush Tobias tonight in his first game back.

Never Seen It, #173 of 200: The Texas Chain Saw Massacre

The blog post which you are about to read is an account of the tragedy which befell a group of one youth, in particular Joe K***. It is all the more tragic in that he was young. But, had he lived a very, very long life, he could not have expected nor would he have wished to see as much of the mad and macabre as he was to see that day. For him, an idyllic list of 200 movies he's never seen before became a nightmare. The events of that day were to lead to the discovery of one of the most bizarre crimes in the annals of American history: Puke on Your Birthday's Never Seen It.

The Texas Chain Saw Massacre

1974

Tobe Hooper

Review by Dwyer first, and then my essay below that.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Dwyer

I'm not a horror or "scary movie" kinda guy. For the Halloween season, sure, I make an effort when I can to watch the so-called classics I've never seen before (and for the ones I have seen before, I may rewatch). But once Halloween is over, that's it until next October. I usually find the horror genre to be the lamest and weakest genre compared other genres of film. That's obviously not the case for all horror films. I certainly have seen very good ones in the past like The Shining, The Exorcist, and Halloween to name a few. Other than those, I find horror movies to be well-made but kinda silly (The Conjuring), creative and fun (Scream), or flat-out fucking stupid (Saw). However, The Texas Chain Saw Massacre may have been the first horror movie I've seen that was truly terrifying.

Going into this, I was expecting a shock horror film with lots of gore throughout. I was wrong, and in fact, I don't recall seeing much blood until the final five minutes. This was everything you would ever see or experience in your worst nightmare. So many holy shit moments stand out. The five-minute chase scene that felt like 20 minutes. The haunting ten-minute dinner scene with cannibals laughing as their victim screams. And of course, the final image of Leatherface dancing his way into our own minds as the most terrifying entity in horror movie history. 

I don't think I'll ever watch this again. But there's something to be said for a movie that truly scares the shit out of you. Probably a good thing this was low budget. It was way more effective because of it.

DWYER'S GRADE: 4.5/5 stars

~~~~~~~~~~~

Joe

I am no horror film afficionado by any means, but I think at this point I have seen enough of them to be comfortable about what I like or don't like. It's easy to trace the evolution of my opinions because, due to the nature of this blog project, I have documented proof of various check-ins I've done with some of the heavies of the genre, and can check back on what I wrote whenever I want. Blogging is helpful for many reasons, and using it to track growth is just one of them.

Though the following films are not the only films on my Never Seen It list that I'd consider "scary," I would argue that these are the five so far that could comfortably call themselves "horror films." In alphabetical order: The Blair Witch Project, Friday the 13th, I Know What You Did Last Summer, It Follows, Psycho. I'm not 100% sure (since I make a habit of avoiding any information about upcoming films), but this might be the last horror film we cover in this installment of PoYB's movie column (depending on what 28 Days Later is about, I guess). I won't bore you with any sort of "summary" of my feelings, but I think it might behoove us to look back, just a little bit. At the very least, use the previous horror films as a comparison point to our understanding of The Texas Chain Saw Massacre. [Editor's note: Dwyer's essay made me realize I forgot about The Shining. Oh well.]

My reaction to the ending of the (pretty short!) film here was this, verbalized to Pam as proof: "I loved how they explained nothing." And I do still hold that opinion, a couple days after watching. I thought the character of Leatherface was vivid and surreal, and I appreciated the fact that they didn't give him a name, that they didn't try to give him some tragic backstory, that they didn't try to claim that actually it was him that was abused originally or some shit, that there were no magical amulets or ancient curses, that this was all just pretty much random fucking happenstance.

Five kids run out of gas at the wrong rest stop, and then get killed for their troubles. Three of the five kids go into Leatherface's house, so they are walking into the danger, and the other two huff and puff their way into the dark woods toward the house before Leatherface catches 'em halfway. My point is that the villain isn't seeking these kids out. They are, instead, accidentally seeking him out. They walk right into his web. He reacts poorly (murder), but you can't say that there was motivation there. Nor was there justification, of fucking course. There was nothing. There were victims, there was a fucked-up dude who was down to kill, and they met in the middle based on pure fucking coincidence. There's something charming about that.

Though I realize that this is somewhat contrary to the big claim I made for I Know What You Did Last Summer. In that August 2022 blog post (I Know What I Wrote Three Summers Ago), I explained that I enjoyed the film because it dared to make you think about whether the villain was right. In other words, it spelled out exactly why the killer was doing the killing, and even kinda sorta made the case that there was justification to be found there. To repeat a point I make to much—this isn't what makes it a good film, necessarily, but it is what makes it an interesting film, and one worth watching. (For the record, the 3/5 pukes score for IKWYDLS makes me think that I liked it but didn't love it.)

I suppose it only works if you put in sincere efforts to make it work. That villain has strong motivation, strong enough to potentially flip our sympathies (almost, if not quite). Friday the 13th didn't do as good a job. There was a hokey backstory about the kid drowning, and his mom taking revenge (I think?). I thought that was a bad movie that made sense to watch because of how much it informed the genre. All the tropes were born there. Couldn't save what was ultimately a corny plot and haphazard film structure. Psycho was worse, regarding "explanations." 98% a great movie, the ending flopped, because an extraneous character tried to explain it to us. That wasn't necessary. Just let the mystery be, and you have yourself a perfect film.

A theme that runs through Blair Witch and It Follows is that maybe it doesn't matter if it makes sense or is explainable or not, as long as it's a well-made film. I had issues with the plot mechanics of It Follows, but there were certain filmmaking decisions that made a big impact on me (e.g. the decision to put some scares in the corner of the screen or in the background of a tracking shot). Blair Witch felt so fresh in its lo-fi creativity that I was more than willing to forgive how terribly it was made (since it was kinda the point, no?). There was very little focus on the "how did this happen?" of the plot in both of these films, which make them similar to Chain Saw Massacre. We're not watching the why, we're just watching the what. Assuming the what is well-done, then it justifies the lack of why. Does that make sense?

Look, I don't know if The Texas Chain Saw Massacre was "well-done" in the way that I'm talking about there. A sense of amateurishness certainly pervades, but it's fifty years old (as of the beginning of this month, it was exactly fifty years old), so that's excusable. It's old, it's supposed to look old. The actors aren't professionals and so they aren't going to be the best actors. The film is breaking new ground in so many ways (like Friday the 13th, it created so many now-established horror genre tropes), and so it's a bit shaky, but that's to be expected for someone blazing a trail without a light out ahead. 

And the plot is simplistic, to its benefit. The film is only 83 minutes long, and maybe 15% of that is Sally Hardesty getting endlessly chased through the dark woods by a chainsaw-wielding Leatherface. And you know what? That's fucking incredible. I don't need to know about Leatherface's childhood. I don't need to know why he doesn't want to give up on the chase. He's just out there killin'. He's gonna kill Sally. That's all anyone needs to know.

Where did this family of cannibals come from? Let the corpse-fucking IP bullshit nineteen other Leatherface fucking prequels tell you about that. I don't care. And neither does this film, the original. They are just there. And they are horrifying. So many visuals are sticking with me, no matter how obvious they were done with an independent film's budget. The grandpa sucking Sally's finger, the truck driver throwing the wrench, the multiple jumps through windows, the bug-eyed hitchhiker with the port wine stain, that goddamn meat hook, Franklin getting chainsawed out of fucking NOWHERE, and of course, the final fade to black as soundtracked by Sally's insane laughter. To me, a good horror film provides visceral imagery like this. There doesn't need to be an explanation. You remember the good stuff.

At the beginning of the post for The Blair Witch Project, I posed a question: does a horror film have to be "scary" to be a successful film in the genre? Years later, I realize that this is too simple of a question. For almost my entire life, I've defined "scary" too literally, and then tended to dismiss horror films because they didn't actually provide for me the emotion of fear. I so rarely experience fear in that way—the kind that releases cortisol and adrenaline into the bloodstream, etc.—that it would be unfair for me to expect a goddamn fictional movie to somehow do it for me. But just because I don't get jumpy all that easily doesn't mean that art can't affect me in other ways, ya know? I think I knew this since Blair Witch, but at this point, we can mark it down as fact. "Scary imagery" can be thoughtful, creative, visceral, intense, artful, gruesome, gory, unforgettable. It can be all that and more, without actually being literally scary.

When Leatherface popped out and chopped up Franklin, my reaction was "holy shit!" This doesn't mean I was scared. It wasn't even a jump scare for me. But I was excited, ya know? It was a surprise. Genuinely surprising. It was against expectations, because Franklin had been built up as an important character, and he was casually murdered in the dark and forgotten about. It was artful in the way that you could tell it was gory but the gore was kept just off camera. And it was visceral due to the sheer volume of the scene. Two bloodcurdling screams plus the incessant, violent whine of the chainsaw, plus, sure, my own "holy shit," all added up to a noise that puts a bullet through that moment.

I am guessing that, when people say that they "enjoy horror films," they are saying that they enjoy these emotions that are wrapped up in the unique experience of watching a "scary movie." It's not that it's literally scary, but more so that many other emotions are heightened, and that can be fun, in a way. I know I'm not writing anything new here. What I'm doing is putting to rest the old, outdated theory that snobby teenage Joe held close to, the one where he said "I don't like scary movies but NOT because I'm scared." Take that old Joe and chop him in half with a chainsaw. Horror films are fucking great.

As long as they are well made, and aren't too corny, and find ways to surprise, and create tropes or put a new spin on them instead of just repeating them, and, I don't know, make me remember them in some way. Not an easy task. I didn't say that I liked all horror films. But I love the good ones. This was a good one.

JOE'S GRADE: 4 pukes out of 5

NEXT TIME: Oh lordy, being terribly behind on the blogging this week is a TERRIBLE time to commit to watching the almost FOUR-HOUR religious(?) film The Ten Commandments. Maybe I'll like it. Maybe I'll have wished that I was chainsawed to death instead.

Song of the Evening: "New Girl"

All songs found HERE. No long blog posts here. 350 words seems to be the ideal, I'm still shooting for that.

"New Girl"

The Long Winters

from When I Pretend to Fall

2003

The best bands are immortal, untouchable. But the most interesting bands are constantly relitigated. They mean something to you at one point in your life, change with you as you yourself change; there are songs that mean something to you at one point, and other songs reveal themselves as more important at a later date. Highlights come early; deep cuts lay low then sprout when you least expect it.

There was a time that the Long Winters were a niche band on a mixtape that someone made me in a previous life. I don't know how they fell through the cracks. At one point, I was downloading albums based on songs from that mix, and I never got around to When I Pretend to Fall. "Nora" was good though. I know every inch of that thing.

There was a time when I was listening to the Long Winters on Rock Band. I think. There was a tweet from 2008, indicating that I was drunk and that I was thinking about this band and that I didn't think that many people listened to the band and I felt special because I knew another one of their songs from way back when and really I was just stupid and drunk and tweeted too much. I don't know if I'm misremembering this. I can't find evidence of the Long Winters being on Rock Band. What the hell was in that Keystone Light, is what I wanna know.

There was a time when the guy from the Long Winters also dropped a similarly dumb tweet, and became internet famous, which is a made-up phrase that makes me nauseous. He didn't abuse children, he's just a bad social media poster. But, as often happens, good songs find their way to you under the strangest circumstances. Sunny was thinking about Bean Dad and wrote about it and the song attached was good enough that I finally downloaded When I Pretend to Fall, the one with "Nora" at the very end of it.

There was a time, a couple weeks ago, when I fell in love with the Long Winters, like for real this time, love while knowing the full story, the whole album, just some really solid turn-of-the-century nerdy indie rock. And I hear "New Girl." I was just talking with a friend the other day about the idea of "the new girl" in school, how you'd be in elementary school and a new girl would come to school one day, and how that role held this weird, magnetic power, the mystery behind fresh blood making pretty much every other kid in the class act insane. I don't think that "New Girl" by the Long Winters lines up with the theory exactly, but I think about my friend now when I hear it. The Long Winters now, in some minute way, means something different to me, yet again.

Interesting band.

A Year of Blind Spots: Bad Girls

Joe is working through an arbitrary and unpublished list of albums that he considers "blind spots," i.e. albums that he's never heard but feels like he should.

Bad Girls

Donna Summer

1979

Donna Summer occupies a weird little corner of the story of Joe and Pam, and at this point it's impossible to disentangle her from our history. I don't repeat the tale in full detail, but here's an in-case-you-missed-it summary. We met on the night of the Masque formal. The annual tradition of the Masque formal was... well, there were a lot of rituals, as theater kids are known for that sort of thing. One of those rituals is that the last song of the night is always Donna Summer's "Last Dance." Corny pick, because theater kids are corny. Me and Pam were getting to know each other, and we're gonna go out to the bus to hang out, ya know, and I'm like, let's go after this song, and Pam, being impossibly cool, and a skeptic of all corny theater bullshit, hears one note of this corny-ass song, and whispers in my ears: "Let's go to the bus." That was all she wrote, folks.

So my and Pam's relationship started about ten minutes early because Pam hated a Donna Summer song, basically. Not that knowing anything about Donna Summer would have changed my path of destiny; I could have been Donna Summer superfan #1 and I would've thrown her under a goddamn train if it meant making out with a pretty girl. But I really didn't know anything about Donna Summer. Ostensibly, this was my third time hearing "Last Dance," as it was my third Masque formal. Though two years prior I had been mostly likely been too busy preparing to lose my virginity to hear the song. So maybe it was sophomore year when I said to someone, in between sips of jungle juice, "hey, so what is this song again?" And so for basically the last fifteen years, my only context with this artist is that her one song is some dumb fucking theater bullshit.

Bad Girls does everything it can to smash that context into smithereens. It almost gets there. The myth is too durable for it to ever disappear, but I'll cop to the idea of loving this particular Donna Summer album enough that I'd listen to it in full, as opposed to turning it off immediately so I can make out with my wife.

For one, there is a lot on here. It's a double album, and its sound is purposefully large to begin with. It's not all widescreen disco, but that is the bedrock on which the rock elements and sappy ballads rest. It's monstrous. Donna Summer and Giorgio Morder pretty much through one last party for disco, a funeral reception more explosive than even Disco Demolition Night.

Second, there are hits that I immediately recognize. They are right there at the beginning. "Hot Stuff" is one of those songs that has been totally wrung out by commercial pop culture (e.g. you can hear it soundtracking a Capitol One or Lay's Potato Chips TV ad pretty easily in your mind if you wanted to), but still has an immediate impact, if you can distance yourself from that. Right away, it's like, okay, I know this, this chick is not just "Last Dance." And then the title track comes in with its toot toots and beep beeps and you start to get the sense that this is going to be 80 minutes of straight hits.

It's not, though, and so, third, there's variety here. For better or worse. I'm on record in saying that pop albums benefit when they eschew the ballads in favor of all bangers. I don't think that happens today with the Found Drama artists, and I guess it didn't happen in the late '70s either. I prefer the bad girls over the sad girls. No worries. Sometimes, like in "Dim the Lights," the sad morphs into the bad. If not, usually the next song goes hard on the Eurodisco and it's a palate cleanser. The sappy ballads are hitches but not album-ruiners.

The big takeaway, contemporaneously, was that this was more of a "rock" album than a "disco" album. So, fourth: it's disco, too, but I guess it was enough for rock critics to give it its just compliments in 1979. Rolling Stone apparently claimed it was the only other good disco album besides the Saturday Night Fever soundtrack, which is pretty funny. I feel like I discussed this idea when we listened to Parliament for this column—genre still exists but it's less important. I'd rather discuss texture than classification. I don't care if it's rock or disco, but I do care if it's slow rock or fast rock or slow disco or fast disco.

I am also (fifth) enjoying the "concept" of Donna Summer empathizing or role-playing as a sex worker on this album. See it on the cover, see it in a lot of the songs (but not Donna Summer in 1980, who by then had converted hard into Christianity and started to rebuke her own music's themes). I would also call this "corny" if I stripped away the context, but within that context of my choosing, it fits perfectly. It's a role that Donna Summer plays beautifully. It's theater, baby!!

But we've already discussed that on the blog too. It's just interesting to bend nostalgia toward the music, and not the other way around. Donna Summer was there at the beginning, and here she is, found in a different light, through the act of listening to music. Music is powerful like that.

Never Seen It, #172 of 200: Terms of Endearment

"Raising three children, working full-time, and blogging about 200 films you've never seen before requires a lot more energy than you have. You know, one of the nicest qualities about you has always been that you recognized your weaknesses. Don't lose that quality now just when you need it the most!"

Terms of Endearment

1983

James L. Brooks

I am going to speak openly, in honor of our two female protagonists, who are honest with each other to a fault. The specific moment that I realized that this movie was truly about the pros and cons of honest communication styles happened, I dunno, maybe halfway through. Debra Winger's Emma has fallen into a surprisingly sweet dalliance with John Lithgow's Sam, cheating on her husband (Jeff Daniels' Flap) while it's pretty clear he's cheating on her. Anyway, that shit is obviously complicated, and in general is usually dealt with in secret, but then at one point, Emma is chatting on the phone with her mom, Aurora (the great Shirley MacLaine), and Aurora just kinda casually and offhandedly says, "so how's Sam?"

I've been thinking about this kinda thing recently, after at least two people have commented on my communication style. I've been leaning into the idea of DTF ("define the friendships"), because life is too short to be worrying if the people in your life have different expectations for your relationship than you do. I like being able to say "okay, so our friendship is going to be mostly texting, and we're going to give each other patience and grace in planning our next in-person hang." And then that also improves inter-relationship communication too. If you're always open and upfront about that kind of thing, then you feel comfortable talking about whatever you want when that in-person hang actually happens.

My views on this inform my view of the mother-daughter relationship at the center of this film. It's important, because, from a different POV, you could easily see that relationship as something akin to "toxic." I mean, Aurora is kind of an asshole! And the way Emma is so upfront about everything could make someone uncomfortable! But the way I see it is that they are both so open and honest with each other that it automatically justifies anything else that might be happening here. Or at the very least makes it incredibly comfortable to enjoy.

I loved this movie in the same way I loved Steel Magnolias—the lives of women told through the passage of time in such a way that has a way of immediately building empathy and intimacy for the audience. I can't decide which I liked better. Sometimes, I think I like the scope of Steel Magnolias, how it covered a vast, complicated web of relationships. Sometimes, I think I like how intense the focus of Terms of Endearment was on the two main characters. The difference is measured in inches, and they are both fantastic.

I'm not just making that comparison because Shirley MacLaine starred in both of them, either. Though I only needed one of these films to tell me that MacLaine is one of the best actresses to ever play the "grumpy woman" role. Having watched both films, though? I'm a MacLaine fan for life. She was also pretty hot in Terms of Endearment? Honestly, if you put a gun to my head and told me to say who I was more attracted to in this film, Shirley MacLaine or Debra Winger, then I'd probably just reach over and pull the trigger myself, so taken was I by both actresses. I'm not ashamed to say it. Scratchy/hoarse voices do it for me, but confident older women do it for me too.

Oh jeez, let that paragraph be a testament to the undeniable fact that I don't have many high-minded things to say about this film, which was as good as 1983 critics made it out to be, and was absolutely worthy of the Best Picture prize at the '84 Oscars (even over my beloved The Big Chill). It's tough writing about movies I absolutely love, because sometimes it comes back to "I just loved it and it's not complicated why." Great acting and beautiful writing and comfortable visuals sometimes means that it's a good movie to watch but a bad movie to blog about. Fawning over MacLaine and Winger, even from an all-acting/non-boner perspective, doesn't necessarily make a scintillating read on PoYB.

But that's just me being open about it. I'm open about my flaws. I'm not good at watching a good film and trying to explain why it felt important to me without, ya know, writing about myself. How monumental—despite it being such a small moment at the end of the film—it felt when Garrett (Jack Nicholson) and Vernon (Danny DeVito) calmly greeted each other like old friends, despite both being in love with the same woman. Shit like that, if it was appropriate, I could write about forever. Maybe I hold my cards close to the chest like Brief Encounter. Maybe I truly think that it would be a boring read. The truth is that it's not really about the film, it's about me. I'll defend my right to do that, but here, 172 films into this project, I'm starting to feel like taking such a route is a shortcut that is hamstringing my development as a film-watcher.

I will also defend my right to do a drive-by and just say that it was a good film and that if you like award-winning family-centric tragicomedies from the 1980s, then this is as great a film as you'll ever see. So that's what I'll do now.

GRADE: 5 pukes out of 5

NEXT TIME: I just learned that there is a space in between "chain" and "saw" in the title of The Texas Chain Saw Massacre. Hopefully this is the least exciting thing I learn about this classic horror film.